


Catamite

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Category: Popslash
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-31
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>vamps, silk, think different century... different country. oh yes, and someone says something in french. PG.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watch

Watching through slitted eyes at the whirling graceful figures dance in the waltz. There are a few like him here, that share his thirst. There are others who are more alive than the music and its pulsing beat.

The rhythm thrumming just below the surface, ebbing and surging like the pull and push of tide. Watching again the milk white skin, unbroken and perfect in its smoothness. Barely below the surface it pulses blue, red when it spills over lips and teeth.

Shivering, not from the cold, the cold doesn't affect him anymore. Glancing up into cat green eyes, reveling in the smile that barely hid pointed teeth. "Hungry?" The voice in life arousing, now with the bass treble with otherworldly power, made the pulse of borrowed life in his veins thrum.

"Yes."

Lance glanced around the glittering ballroom while reaching out to trail a milk white finger down a statue perfect cheekbone. "For…?" He trailed off gesturing with his other hand to the moving masses of dancers, of life.

JC moved his lips to nip at Lance's fingertip. "For you."

Eyes glittering in hunger, the smile turned from something lazy to feral in the span of a heartbeat, if Lance's heart still did that. "You don't want… a taste?"

JC's eyes swept through the throng resting on golden ringlets smiling up at Lance. It was a tragic and beautiful thing. "So much life, sitting. Waiting." He paused feeling something in him stir. "Him. I want him." He almost smiled again when the young man's eyes connected with his; lust just as hypnotizing even without that of the pull of JC's power. 

"If he is what you want," Lance licked his lips in appreciation as the golden boy made his way from the main floor to the dais. "Then he shall be yours."

Long elegant fingers caressed Lance's silk covered thigh. "Ma petite, not just mine. Ours."


	2. Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flickering shadows on wine red drapes, macabre and beautiful in the ways only few could appreciate. Lounging against the headboard he watched the dance of golden and milk white skin slip against each other, both shaded and decorated by the long dark fingers of darkness.

Flickering shadows on wine red drapes, macabre and beautiful in the ways only few could appreciate. Lounging against the headboard he watched the dance of golden and milk white skin slip against each other, both shaded and decorated by the long dark fingers of darkness. 

A dance of flesh sliding against the other, slick and gritty with sweat and salt. The distant sounds of voices murmuring later and later into the night were the muted backdrop to the hypnotizing picture in front of him. JC opened his eyes just barely watching the other two men together. Long elegant fingers, pale and smooth, tracing patterns over flexing warm muscles to tangle in golden ringlets. JC ran a finger over his lips tasting the sharp bitter taste of wine. "Wait."

Cat green eyes paused to flick up to meet JC's frustrated and lips curled to snarl in protest.

"Mon petite chat, I am not taking your fun. Just… taste." JC trailed another finger into the wine goblet and pushed his finger pass kiss bruised lips, smiling at the quick nip of sharp teeth. Green eyes now dulled with lust lips now wet from the push and glide of tongues and now wine stained fingertip.

"Now you, mon d'or." JC purred trailing another long finger into the wine. Lifting fingers now dripping with the blood bright droplets.

"Am I? Your golden one that is?" Justin asked curiosity shaded with lust pulling back from the fingertips. This night wasn't the first he'd shared with the Duke and his lover, Lance. He wanted this. It was as if he needed them. The terrible urgent feeling that plagued him all the times he wasn't by them increased every time he left their respective sides.

Lance's hand skimmed the soft pale skin of Justin's hip. One of the few places that the sun hadn't seemed to kiss. So he did instead. Placing lips against the soft tender flesh, feeling the lifeblood course just below the thin layer of skin. Groaning, holding back the urge to sink teeth into Justin, he'd almost missed JC's answer.

"If you want, you can be our golden one. Forever." JC said pausing over the last word as if weighing the outcome. His eyes sought Lance's in question. "It must be your choice." The wine dripped, forgotten now, staining the pale silk linens. The drops spread, reaching and growing into something dark and new.

"You know what we are." Lance said stroking fingers over the small wounds along the inside of Justin's pale gold thigh. The short hairs tingling over sensitized nerves and Lance smiled as Justin shifted restlessly against the bed. "We've taken you in," the smile turned rueful and then feral. The switch swift and made Justin's muscles tighten in fear and anticipation. "Almost every sense of the word. The final choice is yours."

JC moved down the bed to slide behind Justin touching, not arousing or teasing, but just to feel the younger man's skin under his own. "You are being given the choice. Our kind, will use yours to… survive, but we only bring only those willing." His voice low and quiet breath skimming and arousing nerves in Justin's skin more so than the friction of fingertips against his flesh. 

Justin's eyes fluttered close. He knew what they were asking. He knew what he was giving in order to receive. His eyes opened and blue met green and then to blue.

"It is your choice."

Lance and JC moved from him to settle at the head of the bed. Opposites yet paired perfectly. Dark and light mixing and tempting on their own rights, combined and a man would surely lose his soul.

Justin breathed deeply and wondered if his soul was worthy.


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin used to love sunrise. It marked the start of a new day. He remembered of days gone by, days from his youth when running naked in the fields with his siblings. Sunlight warming him down to his very core. The smells of daylight and summer mingling with the laughter and memories of a life before…

Justin used to love sunrise. It marked the start of a new day. He remembered of days gone by, days from his youth when running naked in the fields with his siblings. Sunlight warming him down to his very core. The smells of daylight and summer mingling with the laughter and memories of a life before…

Before night.  
Before JC and Lance.

The velvety embrace of night dying into the almost too harsh light of day now seemed cruel. It marked the time he spent away from the Duke and his lover. Now Justin counted the hours till night fell to be with them again. He'd never been so enamored with anyone before.

His desire for them frightened him.  
His need for them chilled him to his core.

Even with his fears and anxiety it was as if he couldn't stop himself from going to them or from craving the feel of their skin against his, the taste of them against his tongue. 

Every morning he woke wondering if that day would be the one where they simply cast him out of their bed. 

But now, now he had been offered to be theirs.  
Justin closed his eyes feeling the sun warm his eyelids hoping that when night fell, he'd know what to choose.

\- - - 

Mouths moving over his skin and the sharp bite of fingers into his skin woke him from the deep blackness that had him in its thrall. Blinking his eyes open, he met two pairs of eyes one pair green the other blue. Both drowning in power and in desire.

"Welcome, mon amour d'or," Lance's soft bass growled out.

"Our golden love," JC said his eyes lighting in happiness and pleasure.

Justin's eyes slid to the windows, the heavy velvet drapes open. He felt the first prickle of tears behind his eyes as the pure white of the moon shone bright casting shadows and darkness at the same time bathing the room in light. 

It was the first night, and the last. Justin blinked back tears and wondered if they were for his new life or the loss of his old one.


	4. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft silken valleys of white skin shadowed and touched by flickering candlelight. The smell of jasmine and the sickly sweet burn of wax scenting the room. The low sounds of shared pleasure and shared release echoing and rolling in waves against polished mahogany wood and gold gilt frames.

Soft silken valleys of white skin shadowed and touched by flickering candlelight. The smell of jasmine and the sickly sweet burn of wax scenting the room. The low sounds of shared pleasure and shared release echoing and rolling in waves against polished mahogany wood and gold gilt frames.

The warmth silk of thighs pressing tight holding the siphoning pressure closer, deeper. Trying to pull the sucking sensation deeper into the very essence of life, all the while the very lips that wanted closer to that flickering humanity was the same pair that was slowly but surely pulling life away, stealing the warmth bit by bit. Gold ringlets caressed pale white thighs. Skin unblemished and unbroken, skin reminiscent of summer’s first strawberries and fresh turned cream. Skin unmarred save for the two dainty holes, neat and seemingly innocent.

“It would be unwise to dally with the king’s mistress.” The rumble of a voice called some time later from somewhere in the near dark of the room. “The Sun King does not share nicely. No matter how pretty the cage he keeps, he still cages. You would be mindful to return his pets to their rightful owners.”

Justin peered up from a tangle of naked limbs and long hair. He glanced down at the sleeping woman beside him. He barely remembered her name. The only thing he ever remembered about his conquest now were the distinct tastes of each and every one. Scholars would have one believe that blood was all the same consistency and made of the same basic elements, but he knew better. Each one was different, tasting different with each person. Some bare essence of the person hidden and permeating through the metallic warm rush against tongue and teeth.

“Young master Justin?” The voice queried softly pulling the bedclothes back to collect the sleeping woman in his arms.

Justin looked up and narrowed his eyes at the other man. This was Joseph. Joseph, he had come to learn, was the Duke’s servant. The closest to him save Lance and now he supposed himself. Joseph was the eyes and ears of the Duke during the times when the Duke himself could not attend to matters. Joseph was his servant, but more so. “I did not know she was the king’s consort. Should I have?”

Joseph pulled the young woman into her clothes dressing her quickly. He performed the tasks quickly and efficiently as if he’d done it many times before. “You are young. You are entirely too bold. And you are also too jealous to realize that you have all you could want and more.” He spared a glance at the surprised face still sitting naked among the stained white sheets. Feeding is rarely neat. Sex rarely is either.

“You don’t know me, servant.”

Joseph simply smiled and shook his head. “Don’t I?”

Justin glared at him mentally cursing the soft warm brown eyes and the half sad half pitying smile. “No. You don’t.”

Joseph knocked on the door and opened it to hand the sleeping young woman over to one of the footmen. “See that this is returned to our king with our apologies. The young lady drank overmuch and spent the night ill and abed.” He closed the door to face Justin again. “I do know you young master Justin.”

Justin refused to answer him and just stared resolutely at the still mostly dark sky. The tones of night were changing from ebony to softer blues welcoming the approaching day. 

“They love you. They want you And yes, they even need you.” Joseph said pulling the sheets away and off Justin. “You are just newly… you are new to this life.”

Justin slid his eyes from the window to Joseph’s friendly open and understanding one. “Is that what this is? Life? Where is it that I go when I fall into that sleep that I remember nothing from? That darkness that swallows me only to wake when the sun’s been long dead to the night? Is that what life is?”

Joseph pulled back and sighed. “You are doubtful. That is understandable, but do not resent them both for what you are now. You chose. You chose this. You chose them. Maybe it was wrong of them to ask, but when does logic suffer fools in love?” Joseph asked with a twist of his lips.

Justin rested his forehead against his bent knees. “But why haven’t they…”

“Why haven’t they come to you?” Joseph finished the question softly. He brushed a hand through the soft curls and the gentle smile almost reminded Justin of someone he should remember. His mother, he thinks, every day her face fades and softens and dulls around the edges. Memories from his past life blur together more now.

“Yes.”

“They fear pushing you too much too soon.” He said quietly fixing the discarded piles of clothing and folding them neatly at the foot of the bed. “But know this, they will never leave you. They will always come for you. They will always be with you, save for when you wish them not there.” 

“Do you always speak in riddles?” Justin asked irritably rubbing his nose against his knees.

Joseph laughed, and the sound was warm and comforting in its freedom. “Living with the Duke and Lance for as long as I have, it is a by product of the union.” He coughed. “A union very different from yours and the Duke’s and Lance’s of course.”

Justin slid his gaze over to look at Joseph who was refolding his breeches. “You act like this is the first time that this has happened.”

Joseph said nothing.

“Joseph?”

Joseph straightened and looked Justin in the eye. “It is not my place to say anything, but know this. I have come to learn that there are many meanings of the word and the existence of this thing we call life and even more of the way in which it is lived. Who is to say that this path isn’t life? Who’s to say it isn’t meant for you? Only you are allowed to say what it is or isn’t.” Joseph glanced at the sky outside the window. “I’ve spoken entirely too much.” He walked briskly to the bedroom door to let himself out. He glanced back at the huddled shape in the middle of the enormously empty bed. “They are but a few feet away…” Joseph paused weighing his next words carefully.

Justin looked up expectantly.

“They are but a few feet away… waiting for you.” He said quietly before opening the door and walking out. The door stayed open the barest spaces.

Justin stared at the space wishing it would answer back and tell him what to do next.


	5. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are days when the memories are sharp and crystal bright, and there are times when they are nothing more than feelings wrapped in swaddling cloths like so much kept and hidden.

There are days when the memories are sharp and crystal bright, and there are times when they are nothing more than feelings wrapped in swaddling cloths like so much kept and hidden. He can remember days as a child wandering the fields of his youth, fields of rich gold and yellows, ripe with bursting wheat and grain for bread, for food, for life. The memories ease through his mind like elusive cats rubbing against the shadow dark corners of his conscience. 

Conscience. The word familiar, but alien.

In his youth, he can remember the whispered holy words of priests in a small rural chapel along the borders of Bordeaux. He can remember watching the lips move in booming benediction, the sound of poorly woven fabric rub slip against itself like tongue to skin.

“Pater noster qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum...”

The memories of playing in the green rich abundance and the sounds of happy laughter warmed the outside distinct, but still never quite as clear as others. That was before, the days of his youth, were from a different time almost. Then the cold echoing stillness of the chapel, learning contrition and obedience from men of the cloth, but still flesh. 

His family was poor; they had no use for another mouth to feed. Not when that pretty mouth could be sold to the highest bidder. They’d lent his body to the Church, in the farce of getting him schooled in the way of the cloth, yet when push came to shove, or gold, his face and body were worth more as chattel to the highest bidder. He was fair of face and he’d caught the eye of a lady of the land. A duchess many times older, but not without intelligence. Nor without an appreciation of beauty.

His time was spent with her learning the ways of the court and the niceties that his youth would never have taught him. He’d learned from the priests how to read, write, and hide. The duchess taught him to hate. To hide and crawl within his own mind, to escape her words and caresses.

His own body no longer his to own. To dictate.

Owned by someone other than he.

She taught him to hate the reaction of his own body to the subtle ministrations of skin on skin, nerves stimulated even while his mind screamed in revulsion. He was taught to please her, to bend to her will, he was taught to hate the very sight, smell, and touch of her skin.

Memories of long ago, wrapped in mist, but still painful and with teeth. Drawing blood and scarring old wounds ripping them open anew. The duchess favored him of all her attendants. So proud was the duchess of her pet, she flaunted him to everyone. To even the king’s consort…

A mistake most egregious. 

He smiles at the remembered feeling of satisfaction as the consort killed the duchess. With her bare hands no less, he wasn’t even scared when the consort, her name had been Sabine, had told him what she was. Showed him what she was. 

She offered him a new life. A new life in death.

He wonders if perhaps he would have chosen differently had the lady not been astride him seemingly pulling him into her and through her. The magic or desire made him agree, the foolishness of youth, or the knowledge that the monster that his youth had created, wanted out.

Sabine had treated him well enough. She tired of him, but she was kind. Surprisingly to many, that a “monster” could show any form of mercy. He thinks that Sabine saw a bit of her own lost innocence in him. Even when his innocence had long abandoned him. He left Versailles with the blessings of a consort, and, through her, a king. A king that had awarded and gifted him money and land. A consort that had given him eternal life.

“…adveniat regnum tuum… fiat voluntas tua…”

From catamite to whore to Lord, the ways of the world would never cease to amaze him. He watched now the blood red wine swirl in the bottom of his cup. Drink and food was still taken, but it wasn’t what he hungered for constantly. The constant gnawing of more, thrummed below the surface of paper thin skin and beat between veins blue beneath, but burst red in the air.

He remembers blood from his youth. The way it streamed from his back when he was disobedient. When he didn’t go obediently with the priests or the duchess, still refusing to be broken in spirit, he can feel the sharp bite of the lash at his back. The priests knew no mercy when it came to punishment. Did not care that the almost perfect skin of his back and legs were unmarred before his training. The duchess was more careful, she beat him, but with careful strokes so that the wounds were many, but did not scar. Still hurt, and bled, but would not scar. She would not destroy her toy.

At least the appearance of her toy.

The feeling of rage still barely swallowed and the grim satisfaction at the death of his mistress at another’s hands made him smile, but it was not a pretty thing.

“…sicut in coelo et in terra…”

“Ma cherie?” Lance’s slow thick drawl still tripped over the fragile lilt of French. The touch on his shoulder startling him from the reverie, from the painfully sharp teeth and nails of the past.

“Yes, my love?” JC’s smile not reflected in the downcast eyes. He studied the contents in his hands. The red liquid, almost brown black in the darkness, in the goblet swirled in an ever widening circle.

“Nothing, you just looked lost.” Lance whispered brushing a kiss among night cool curls.

The blood dark droplets of the wine danced around the rim slipping slick and wet against the gold hammered sides of the goblet. JC remembered the same colors pooling and staining roughly made bread dark, bruise dark. Communion host soaked in bitter red wine. The body and blood of a Savior, he no longer thought heard his prayers or thoughts.

One that he’s come to think had forsaken him years before he became a monster who craved blood to survive.

“I fear I am.” The voice was flat and held nothing.

“No, you aren’t.” Lance said pulling the goblet from JC’s fingers setting it on the far edge of the table. It sat there glittering against the darkness, a beacon of gold among the velvet nothingness.

JC looked up to meet cool greens now warm with something other than lust. Fierce loyalty and love made them darken. “I won’t let you be.”

JC remembered…nothing but the feel of lips on his with no contrition. Lips that held absolution for sins of a past that no longer matter.


End file.
